


Mission On Rhadon-6

by naboru



Series: 28 Blast Offs [10]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1286074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vortex and Blast Off go on a mission on an asteroid colony, and everything that can go wrong does go wrong. Well, almost everything.</p><p>fluff, smut (plug’n’play) / Vortex, Blast Off, Blast Off/Vortex / R</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mission On Rhadon-6

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** fluff, smut (plug’n’play)  
>  **Continuity:** G1 (part of ultharkitty’s [Dysfunction AU](http://community.livejournal.com/lost_carcosa/19574.html#cutid1)), pre-war  
>  **Characters:** Vortex, Blast Off, Blast Off/Vortex  
>  **Rating:** R  
>  **Disclaimer:** Sadly, nothing is mine.  
>  **Beta:** ultharkitty
> 
>  **Note:** Written for the [28 Blast Off meme](http://community.livejournal.com/moebiusschleife/3133.html) \- Prompt: Disheveled

Vortex was tired.

There was no night or day on the colony built inside and outside of this asteroid. There hadn’t been night and day for vorns on Cybertron any more either, but the daily routine still existed. During former night time hours, everything slowed down, lights dimmed and the windows of apartments buildings went dark.

It wasn’t like that on Rhadon-6.

The paths and hallways were always busy. Half a space station, half a mine, it was dirty, the dust in the air oily, and the people exhausting.

Vortex didn’t like it.

Blast Off just endured it like everything else. He might have even already known this kind of environment, seeing as he was at home in space.

Their assigned job didn’t make their stay much better.

It’d all gone wrong. The people they had been supposed to meet hadn’t shown up. Vortex and Blast Off had to go look for them, had to prolong their stay because of that, only to find out they were dead.

Someone had killed them, and had taken most of the cargo that was the reason they were there in the first place.

Vortex had loaded the rest of it onto Blast Off, but this also had been a mistake.

The containers had been leaking. It was probably the reason why they’d been left there, and the cold, liquid gas had flown out, and frozen Blast Off’s plating and one of Vortex’ hands.

The shuttle was built for that, even if direct contact with cold and radiation wasn’t something Blast Off found very pleasing. It didn’t have the effect that it had on Vortex, though.

His hand had to be repaired, and his frame decontaminated. He’d had to stay the duration of two cycles in a dirty medbay. Blast Off had been there, too. He could endure the radiation, but he wasn’t allowed to enter the civilian area when he was emitting dangerous radiation.

Two long cycles were spent with hardly recharge, because they had to be sprayed over with some sort of foam every two joors. 

And now, in this shabby hotel room with rust and grime on the walls and this berth that was too small for them together – not that Vortex minded that too much – he felt dirty. He was tired and sick of people, and this was probably how Blast Off felt most of the time.

Vortex sighed, glancing at Blast Off who sat on the berth, silently sipping his energon. “Can I take a shower first?”

Without looking up, the shuttle nodded.

“Thanks,” he said, grateful that he could wash off all the dried foam and the other substances the medics had smeared on them.

The shower stall was small, the door so narrow Vortex had to shuffle his rotors down. At least the liquid was warm and clean. It smelled of detergent, and all the remnants from last cycles’ ordeal were easy to remove from his smooth parts. It took a bit longer in the joints, but focusing on that prevented Vortex from thinking further how to tell Onslaught about the mission failure.

“Do you need help?” Blast Off’s voice startled Vortex. His rotors twitched, and he turned his head swiftly. “The door was open,” the shuttle added flatly, perhaps having registered Vortex’ surprise.

“Oh, yeah. It doesn’t close right.” He shrugged.

Blast Off nodded again. “I see. I can leave again if you want.”

Vortex’ optics shifted from Blast Off to the door and back to the shuttle. He then turned to face the wall again, and shook his head. “I can’t reach my rotor hub?” Vortex offered, and didn’t mean it to be suggestive for once.

“If you help me to clean my back later,” Blast Off replied, and if there’d been a grin, it wasn’t audible.

“Sure,” was all Vortex could say before the sudden touch on his sensitive rotor assembly stole the air from his vents.

Blast Off came a little closer, the shower just big enough for them both to fit in. Fingers of the shuttle’s large hand dug into the mechanisms of his hub, and stroked the brackets of the rotors thoroughly. Blast Off’s other hand rested idly on Vortex’ hip for a moment before it moved upwards. Fingers traced over Vortex’ side, and made him shiver. His arm was raised up, and he didn’t resist, but put his hand on the wall.

Red optics behind the visor dimmed, and brightened again the moment Blast Off reached the tail rotors.

Vortex’ intakes hitched, and sensations travelled down, gathered heat behind his interface panel. He kept his field from flaring, not wanting to put the shuttle off if this hadn’t been intended.

But Blast Off leant even closer. Their energy signatures touched, and before Vortex could read the other’s, Blast Off licked along a tail rotor. They were in the right height for the shuttle to reach them, to bite down gently, and it caused Vortex to sigh. He didn’t bother to hide his field flare this time, and earned an answering flare in return.

Vortex leant into the touch on his back, arching, and sighing softly.

It lasted for about two kliks, or maybe longer, after which Blast Off leant down, mumbling near his audials, “Turn around.”

There wasn’t much space to do so, but Vortex didn’t mind being so close to the shuttle. Their fields pulsed against another. Their friction and charge caused the straight stream of liquid to deflect slightly, but it still rained down on them.

Blast Off pressed Vortex against the wall, glancing down at him with his hands on the ‘copter’s waist. It was a tighter grip, but not forceful.

The shuttle heaved him up, the same time Vortex pushed his legs off the ground and wrapped them around Blast Off's waist. Their energy fields almost mingled when frequencies changed due to proximity, and Vortex’ cooling fans switched on.

One of Blast Off’s hands moved to Vortex’ aft, bracing him, while the other reached for his interface panel.

Their panels opened, and they took each other’s connector to plug in. It was familiar by now, like it should be, like it’d been for so long.

The energy stream began instantly, but it was slow and lazy, resembling Vortex’ and Blast Off’s exhaustion.

Vortex stroked the winglet on Blast Off’s upper arm, and clutched at the strong shoulder for support.

The shuttle’s visor alternatively brightened and dimmed, his lips parted slightly – visible because his battle mask was still drawn in from refuelling.

Vortex sighed, arching against Blast Off’s frame when the shuttle’s hand stroked up his side once again. Slowly, flaring his field in waves off his fingers, it traced over a transformation seam. Blast Off reached the heliformer’s shoulder, the neck cables, and Vortex craned his head. He shivered, moaning because of the power behind the touch that could easily break his vocaliser. He sent a stronger rush through the interface, but it was drowned out by the constant sluggish pulsing that made his frame glow.

They didn’t have the charge for urgency. Nevertheless it was hot. Waves of pleasure rolled slowly over them, raising the charge and lightening up their sensor nets.

Blast Off vented deeply, sighing, blowing hot air over Vortex that made him dizzy for a moment. His visual input blurred, but he regained focus again, only to see Blast Off leaning down. Mouth hovering over Vortex’ battle mask.

They didn’t need an order or request. 

Vortex withdrew his mask.

There were still bits of dried foam from medbay that had got under the cover. Blast Off’s optics flicked over them, and his hand moved, stroking further up from the ‘copter’s throat. It was a weirdly tender touch when Blast Off wiped the filth away, and fingers followed the curves of Vortex’ face plates. 

Blast Off leant in for a kiss.

Vortex shuddered, returning the gesture, and offlined his optics.

Energy fields pulsed stronger, signatures changed and heat increased when finally their fields mingled.

It was a sudden surge of pleasure running through them that intensified the connection. The pace of the energy stream didn’t pick up, only the pulses and rushes became more powerful.

Vortex could sense the information in them, data from Blast Off that made him feel like he was dipped completely in liquid. It was warm, comforting, and his intakes stuttered when his processor registered it and thought they’d suck in fluid.

Vortex didn’t care about his systems malfunctioning. He embraced the sensations, the heat, and Blast Off in front of him. He broke the kiss involuntarily when he gasped, and the pleasure made him lose his sense of direction.

In the small room, their soft sounds of sighs and voiceless moaning seemed unreal and loud.

Vortex slung an arm around Blast Off’s neck, and clutched at the back of the shuttle’s helm with his other hand. Blast Off stabilised Vortex on the small of his back, the large hand curling against his plating.

They searched each other for another kiss, which broke again because of their trembling lips. Vortex leant his forehead against Blast Off’s, taking in the optics changing and losing focus before the heat grew even more. It was a glowing flow of pleasure on all his sensors. It was smooth and gentle and intense, and his optical sensors switched off once again.

It caused the pleasure to increase even more, and Vortex knew his sensor net would give in any astrosecond.

The pulses were still slow, but the prickling bliss remained in his systems for a longer time when the next wave hit. It built slowly, but Vortex could sense the climax growing inside.

Eventually, overload hit. A slow, hot surge of sensations crawled through him from the depth of his core to the tips of his rotors. Processor power was reduced and made thinking impossible when sensations swapped over him. Pleasure took everything away that’d made the last cycles so awful. There was only comforting charge and warm satisfaction. It peaked again when Blast Off’s overload backfired, and the feedback loop came to life one last time.

The shower still ran. Liquid flowed over them and cooled their frames, but the contentment and sensations remained as did the illusion of swimming fluid around Vortex that was caused by Blast Off’s data. It almost drowned out the exhaustion of the shuttle in the interface. Vortex chose to stay quiet. There was nothing that needed to be said when their fields were still one, and their systems pinged each other through the connection.

Vortex buried his face in Blast Off’s throat and lazily stroked the shuttle’s shoulder blades.

After four kliks, it was Blast Off who finally broke the silence.

“We should go and recharge,” he said, but didn’t sound convinced. Probably because going to recharge involved moving.

Vortex nodded anyway.

“We’re clean now,” the shuttle added, as though to reason with himself.

Vortex didn’t move other than still stroke the other’s back. “Just one more klik?” he asked, changing his energy field enough to keep it mingled with Blast Off’s.

He could feel the shuttle nod briefly. “Okay.”


End file.
